


How Severus Became a Care Bear

by Severely_Lupine



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Gen, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-23
Updated: 2009-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 14:43:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severely_Lupine/pseuds/Severely_Lupine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus gets the most awesome powers in the universe (or so was the challenge with which I was presented).</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Severus Became a Care Bear

"Severus?"

 

"Hm?"

 

"What's this?"

 

Severus fought the urge to purr as Hermione ran her finger across the bare skin of his chest.  He was lying in bed, half-asleep, trying to decide whether or not he should fully wake up.

 

"Did you get a tattoo without telling me?"

 

Severus opened his eyes and looked at Hermione's pinched brow.  "What on earth are you talking about?  Do you honestly believe I'd want to mark myself again?"

 

"Then how do you explain this?"

 

He looked down at his chest to where her finger rested and saw some kind of strange marking on his skin.  Startled, he rubbed his hand over it, trying to wipe it off, but nothing happened.  Instantly awake, he leapt from the bed and ran to the mirror.

 

There was a large symbol of a skull printed on his chest, right between his nipples. 

 

"What the hell is that?"  He spun at her.  "Is this some kind of joke?  Did you do this to me, woman?"

 

Hermione frowned at him and crossed her arms over her breasts.  "Yes.  Because that's exactly my sense of humor."

 

He murmured an apology and looked closer at the odd skull.  It must have somehow appeared overnight.  He had no idea how something which seemed to be some kind of permanent mark could have been made without him waking or noticing.

 

Then something floated up from the bowels of his memory: a curse he'd been hit with years ago, which had seemed to have no effect at the time.  He'd done something especially cold-hearted in his seventh year which had sent Lily into a wild rage.  He remembered a flash of pink light from her wand and a promise that one day, when he finally found what made him truly happy, everyone would be able to see what sort of man he really was.

 

He'd never thought Lily had it in her to invent a curse so cruel, much less use it.  But then, he'd been wrong about many things in his life.

 

"Maybe it'll wash off," offered Hermione hopefully.

 

It didn't wash off.  Severus scrubbed his skin raw and still the skull remained, a pitch black mark on his pale flesh.  He tried every spell and potion he could think of, but none of it made the slightest difference.

 

"Well, it's not _so_ bad," said Hermione several days later, when he was near the point of giving up hope.  "And it does match the one you already have."

 

He glared at her, most certainly not needing to be reminded of its resemblance to his Dark Mark.

 

But then the school was attacked, and he had other things to worry about.

 

When he was brought before the Dark Lord, wandless, half-naked, and exposed as a traitor, the mark on his chest was the furthest thing from his mind.  Foremost was where his young wife was, second was the state of The Boy Who Was Their Last Hope, and third, vaguely, was how Voldemort looked so small reclining in the Headmaster's chair—more feeble than Dumbledore ever had, even in his hundreds.

 

"And what do you have to say for yourself, Severus?" asked Voldemort in his gratingly high-pitched voice. 

 

Severus said nothing.  His treason was irrefutable.  There was absolutely nothing he could say to save his skin.

 

Voldemort's red eyes flitted down to Severus's chest.  "What is that?" he asked, his tone half-way between derision and amusement.

 

"Where's Hermione?" Severus asked, ignoring the question for which he had no answer.

 

Voldemort appraised him for a long moment.  "Can you really love the Mudblood, Severus?"

 

Severus looked at his former master with hatred burning in his eyes.  And, oddly, something else beginning to burn a bit lower down.  "Where is she?"

 

"What would you do for her?  Would you die for her?"

 

"Anything.  Yes."  He felt the warmth grow into a tightness in his chest.

 

"And what does she do for you?" Voldemort asked, sounding genuinely bemused.  "Is it merely the liberties she allows you with her body, when no self-respecting pureblood would touch you?"

 

Severus fought to keep his voice even.  "She found me.  She fixed me.  I love her.  I don't expect you to understand it."

 

"Then explain it to me."

 

It was a flippant remark, meant as a taunt, as if he'd told Severus to explain why the sky is green or why dragons make excellent house pets.  But as he said the words, Severus felt the slow burn in his chest yearn to surge forth, to do . . . something.

 

So he let it.  Having no idea what would happen next, Severus released the tension coiled tightly behind his sternum. 

 

It took no wand, no words—he simply let go, and a blinding white light surged forth from the odd, infuriating skull symbol on his chest.  The light poured out in an arc over the space between himself and the Dark Lord and flowed into Voldemort as if there were no wards or protection spells between them, before Voldemort even had a chance to react.

 

When the light show was over and Severus stood there, trying to figure out what the hell just happened and how quickly Voldemort would kill him for it, he gradually realized that the man before him had a nose.  In fact, he had hair, too.  After he had a good, long stare, Severus realized something that changed his world.

 

Voldemort wasn't Voldemort anymore. 

 

Before him stood an old, wrinkled wizard with a pained, weary expression.  And still, Severus didn't know what to do. 

 

The old man who Severus knew must have been Tom Riddle looked at him and said in a weak and tired voice, "I'm sorry."

 

With that, Severus knew that he'd won.  He'd saved Hermione, he'd saved himself, he'd saved the entire Wizarding world.  He, not Potter, had saved them all.  And he'd done it without even having his wand. 

 

So, _that_ was the sort of man he truly was.  He was a hero.

 

Severus smirked victoriously. 


End file.
